Two Birds, One Stone
by C.F.Broome
Summary: There is something bothering our heroine. Her thoughts are constantly focused around her mysterious employer, Mr Edward Rochester. Her illicit desires follow her not just in her waking hours but permeate her dreams too. She cannot take the torture anymore, will she hand in her resignation or will she divulge everything to her master? Will she end satisfied or make a grave mistake?


The billowing clouds served entrance to visions of a heavenly realm, veiled in smoke and filled with corruscating constellations and then, all at once, nothing at all. I shook my head slightly, attempting to force both my eyes and my mind into affiliation and to comprehend that the swirling depths of wonder before me did not belong in some ancient fortune teller's crystal ball, but rather my rapidly cooling bowl of consommé. Once again, I had been tricked by the fiendish imp that is the weary mind, this sprite had preyed on me for several weeks now and my daily existence was fraught with a continuous battle between what I knew to be real and what was, in fact, a mocking pastiche of the aforementioned.

It is imperative that you understand, reader, that I considered myself to be rather rational and clear-headed under any normal circumstances but came to realise during this time that my entire way of thinking had been obliqued. I had allowed my mind to become corrupted with thoughts which are so impure, so wicked, that I found myself surprised that the Lord had not struck me down as I lay in my bed. The blissful wave of slumber was but a mere memory to me at this moment, the sweet relief of Hypnos' wings had been missing from my nights for what seemed to me like an eternity. I found it a form of sick irony how the days seem to be the longest when one's desire for the opposite is at its apex.

"Mademoiselle Eyre" enquired Adèle from the other side of the vast dining table.

"What is it that you want?" I responded, my tone a little shorter than intended. The child cast her eyes to the floor, looking despondent at my clipped words. Sighing, I walked over and knelt before her "sorry", I began, "I'm a little tired is all". Her eyes met mine and she smiled slightly, her childlike warmth flooding her face once more as she spoke the words "Oui, Je comprends, J'espère que vous vous reposez ce soir". She skipped off, most likely to torment the long-suffering Pilot with her well-meaning (though over- fervent) games. Why is it that children are often so much more understanding than their elders? Nevertheless, the fact that she had taken heed to my altered disposition was concerning and caused me to realise that I needed to take action before I was surely dismissed from my position for lethargy.

I am sure the reader has realised by now that I have not yet divulged the reason for my aforementioned change in character, the source was none other than my employer, Mr Edward Rochester. Despite his aloofness and general dissatisfaction with all of my efforts with Adèle, I found myself desiring his company during every waking minute of the day, even on the rare occasion that Adèle and I would spend hours in his company. During those glorious occasions, my entire frame was on edge, my body felt entirely charged with electricity that had no outlet. Sitting at the table with Adèle, I would occasionally steal a glance towards him, only allowing my eyes to register his dark hair and angled profile before I forced myself to return to the far less stimulating multiplication tables before me. On these evenings, he would usually stay beside the fire studying some volume and making the occasional sarcastic remark to either me or one of the unlucky members of the household who happened to walk by. I could do nothing but remain in my seat, burning, while silently praying that my illicit desires would evaporate and leave me in peace. The whole premise of this was sinful, my master not only possessed more than twice my years, but he was my employer and, though I hate to admit, my social superior in every way.

Alas, these facts were not enough to quell the burning passion I held in my heart, particularly as I lay alone at night in the darkness of my bedchamber. Each time I attempted to fall into the merciful arms of sleep, my overactive imagination conjured up images of the most sinful sort. I could almost feel the heat of his lips as they left smouldering trails along the delicate flesh of my neck while his large, powerful hands pulled my all too willing frame closer to his. My resistance to the invading thoughts grew weaker night by night and often left me writhing between the sheets desperately trying to distract myself from the heat coursing through my body. The little sleep my mind would allow me was fitful and the desires which I fell victim to during my waking hours were only magnified through a series of vivid dreams which did nothing at all to satisfy my ardent desires. In fact, it rendered the entire situation more and more unbearable as I regularly awoke feeling feverish and with an unmistakable dampness defiling my thighs. The guilt I carried with me as a result of this began to manifest as actions I would take to somehow purify myself. Each time Adèle and I would leave Thornfield for an "educational" excursion to the local village, I would visit the church and furiously repent while the scalding betrayal of my transgressions rolled down my cheeks.

My desperation for simply being in my master's presence compelled me to start leaving personal items in rooms wherein he would spend the majority of his time such as the library or the parlour. On one notable instance, I remember so carelessly allowing my hairpin to fall to the ground after an afternoon English lesson and returning several hours later because I was dreadfully worried about the whereabouts of the "precious family heirloom" and couldn't possibly retire to bed until it was returned to my person. My heart skipped like an old gramophone record as I opened the library door. "Oh, sir" I began with mock surprise as I met his eyes. "I'm very sorry to bother you at this late hour but I appear to have misplaced my hairpin". His dark eyes focused intently on mine for several seconds, a puzzled expression crossed that brooding visage and he said: "Well you certainly won't find it by standing in the doorway, will you, Jane?". This comment did nothing to calm my nerves and my steps were unsteady as I feigned looking around the room. "Oh, there it is" I mused aloud, turning on my heel and exiting the room with a hasty "goodnight, sir". As soon as I closed the door behind me, the tears threatened to spill from my eyes like a collapsing dam but I managed to stop myself. I would not allow any more tears to be shed over this man, I had to understand that there were only two options I could exercise in correlation to the problem I was faced with. Either I could leave in my resignation and leave Thornfield forever or I could risk my future career prospects and the reputation I had worked so hard to build through all my torturous years at Lowood and confess my desires.

Another night was spent wrestling with my own conscience and now the added burden of this monumental decision was weighing heavy on my mind to add to the torture that had recently become my life. By the time the sun had forced itself through the gap in the heavy emerald curtains which separated my bedchamber from the day's unavoidable responsibilities, I had fully accepted the likely negative repercussions of what I was about to do. Throughout the day, I found it increasingly arduous to remain in a state one could even come close to describing as lucid. My eyes, surrounded by dark, lifeless skin were threatening to close over breakfast and as the hours passed they became even heavier. Any chance of me being able to hold an intelligent conversation with Mr Rochester later that evening was becoming slim. Adèle, as tactless (though caring) as ever remarked "Mademoiselle Eyre, tu a l'air assez malade!".

When the time of reckoning eventually arrived, I was somehow able to make my way to my master's study unassisted and knocked upon the cold oak. Being January, a bitter chill permeated the lesser used west wing of the house and caused my already shaking frame to become even more unsteady. "What?" barked a voice from behind the door, stern and clearly annoyed. I leaned close to the keyhole and answered, my voice strained, barely above a whisper, "It is I, sir". Hearing a sigh, I began to realise that Mr Rochester was perhaps not in the best of moods for such an encounter. "Come in, then" he said impatiently. I cracked open the door and peered around. I was met with the sight of my master at his desk, cluttered with disorganised papers and broken quills; it was not his usual milieu. "I'm very sorry, I can see you are busy" I started, not daring to look him in the eye in case he served me one of his predictable cold remarks. "I hope this is important Jane, I do not like being interrupted when I am working, surely you know that by now?" His disapproval cut me deeper than any knife but also made me certain that I needed to speak up as soon as possible before he lost his temper (although I was quite sure the exact same situation would occur after I broke my news to him).

Several deep breaths were required to prevent myself from collapsing as I prepared to finally accept my own reality. However, they did nothing to calm my rapidly beating heart which was much like a trapped butterfly one curious child had "rescued" and confined in a glass jar. I could sense rather easily that Mr Rochester was becoming increasingly impatient from his intense gaze and the way his mouth formed an unmoving horizontal line as if he had to physically restrain himself from expressing his displeasure. Looking down at the floor in a poor attempt to obscure the scarlet rapidly blooming in my cheeks, I softly mumbled: "Sir, I am afraid I can no longer hold my position here". I waited for the response, my right hand gripping the other, starkly white against the rich mahogany parquet. "Why ever not?" my master enquired, almost mockingly and without stirring. I knew that this was the moment, it was imperative he knew the truth.

Still keeping my head down, I said "I must speak the truth. I have been weak-minded and have been allowing my desire to affect my work as governess, it would serve you better if you simply replaced me." I screwed my eyes shut as tight as I could muster, not only to prevent the tears from spilling from them but also as a childish method of protecting myself, willing that when I opened them again, I would be transported to a haven, a sunny vista, perhaps. After a heavily pregnant pause, my master's calm, low voice caused me to jolt slightly as he asked, "Forgive me, Jane but I am a little perplexed. What is the root of this so-called desire?".

I was expecting this and before I had time to check myself the words ran away from me, "You, sir" I stammered.

"Me?" he chuckled, feigning surprise while I said nothing. "And what sort of desire would that be, Janet, hm?". I heard him lean back in his chair and once again felt his eyes boring into me even though I did not meet them. "Illuminate me" he almost purred, mock confusion lacing his tone. The embarrassment devoured me faster than aphids would a defenceless stem. "Well... it's just that…" I stumbled quietly.

"I would appreciate it if you regarded me when you spoke, thank you, Jane" Mr Rochester warned, a hint of danger running through his voice. I tasted the familiar tang on my tongue, warm and metallic, which contrasted with the cold of my lips that my teeth were assaulting as a way of calming myself. Meeting his eyes, I recall a strange flame within those dark marbles, shimmering with all the intensity of a roaring fireplace. However, unlike the latter, they provided me no warmth. "A feeling I have never felt before, sir" I started hesitantly. "I don't know what to do, I am getting the most impure deliberations".

"And what are these so-called "deliberations" about, Jane," he asked, trying to control a smirk. I felt utterly humiliated. I cleared my throat, "About you, sir" I confessed, wringing my hands in my skirts. He looked at me silently, I was compelled to continue with a meek "and me...sort of, together as it were".

"Together, as it were, ah, I see" my master nodded, his mouth twitching slightly. "Will you come here, Jane, please" He not so much as asked, but rather, commanded. A black cloak of dread descended upon me, the weight of the fabric I bore becoming heavier and heavier with each tentative step I took across the icy floorboards. This is my death march, I remember thinking. I walked to where he sat at his desk, trying to breathe as quietly as I could in hopes of making his inevitable wrath a little less potent. I was standing closer than I had ever been to him, with barely a foot of air between us and yet the desire to close the space further heightened with every heartbeat. He turned to me, his eyebrow raised, an infuriatingly condescending expression graced his visage as he finally spoke "If I understand what you are trying to insinuate, Jane, I hope you know how inappropriate these imaginings are, especially for such a young woman. My eyes stung with bitter tears which I was trying desperately to hold back, the guilt must have been clearly written across my face. "Yes, sir. I do" I mumbled, refusing to look into his eyes.

"Being your employer, it would be good practice for me to inform Mrs Fairfax and dismiss you from your position". There it was, the end of my carefully constructed world, all the years of working through the unbearable hardships with Mrs Reed and then the trauma of Lowood was for nothing. Yes, reader, I expected this, but it did not make the blow any less painful to me. "Yes, sir, of course, sir. I'll pack my affairs and be goi…"

"However", my master cut me off abruptly. "I must admit, I have seen some good progress with Adèle's English and even her mathematics seems to be slowly improving. You may play the piano like a typical English schoolgirl, Jane but your artwork is something to pay attention to. I should not like to lose you." He finished, seemingly truthful.

"Oh, sir" I gasped, hardly daring to believe my luck, "Thank you, I do not deserve this I promi…"

"But" he cut me off once again and almost immediately, my heart sank into my stomach. "For my kindness, I will, of course, expect a little, shall we say, repayment". His eyes sparkled and an almost sinister grin began to grow upon his face. Though this struck fear into my chest I decided he did have a fair argument. Any other employer surely would render a girl like me destitute without a care at the drop of a hat for a lesser offence.

"Yes, sir. Of course" I told my master.

"Good. Now you will have to ensure that you do not run around telling people about this, I know how girls are these days". Ignoring the insult I waited with bated breath to hear my fate.

"A man has needs" he began, matter of factly. "Listening to your recent ramblings it is obvious that you do, too". I was utterly speechless, I gazed at him like a frightened deer. Surely he was not suggesting what I thought he was? My face once again grew hot as he continued: "Why don't we kill two birds with one stone, eh, Jane?" he smirked at me knowingly while I tried my utmost to string a simple sentence together. My gradually disappearing common sense was screaming to decline but I feared by rapidly heating body would override this sensible request if I contemplated any longer. "No," I said a little firmer than I wanted to. He chuckled softly and put his head in his hands in mild frustration. "Oh, Jane, don't do this to me. Was that not the entire reason behind this conversation, your wicked need for the delights of the flesh? He reached over and gripped my wrist causing me to whimper in a twisted melange of fear and unbridled desire. This simple touch ignited that familiar flame in my already overheated core, every nerve in my body was on edge and in instant need of any form of stimulation.

My remaining self-control instantaneously evaporated and before I could prevent myself from doing so, I flung my arms around his neck and began furiously kissing him, with such intent and fervour I thought it sure he would push me off but instead he took me into his mouth with the same intensity. I was pulled off my feet as he swiftly lifted me into his lap to gain more access to my willing flesh. Not having done any kissing before, I felt rather lost in this moment but quickly learned to match my master's movements. The heady combination of softness and control he was providing me through his mouth was like a spell, my head swam in a bottomless pool of desire, drowning in the warmth and loving every forbidden second. A growl came forth from the back of his throat and mingled with my soft, desperate moans to form a symphony which only added to my agitated state. My nether regions were crying for immediate attention and I found my hips twitching, trying to find any point of friction to quell my deepening ache. Mr Rochester broke to kiss abruptly, this action was met with a frustrated whine from my own mouth which escaped without my mind even processing it. "My, Jane" he chuckled mockingly while tracing his hand across my alabaster neck, "We are impatient today". Usually, I would grow irritated with such a comment but I looked up at him with wide, helpless eyes in an attempt to silently will him to continue his torturous ministrations.

"Maybe this will satisfy you a little more" he whispered into my ear, his hand gently brushing the nape of my neck. I had no time to wonder what was to come before picked up my virtually limp frame and laid me down on the chaise lounge on the opposite side of the room. I felt a great sense of nausea flood me and the previous sense of fear returned. Even taking into account my complete lack of experience, I knew all too well what he was going to do next. My eyes grew wider as he started to push my skirts above my legs before my hands came down to prevent him, though I was burning for him, fear shone through my eyes nonetheless. His ragged breathing increased as his annoyance grew: "Do you want to do it then, Jane?" he huffed, his jaw set with frustration. I nodded briskly and frantically tried to lift my clothing with my shaking hands before he took matters into his own hands once more. I revealed my underwear and saw his face light up almost like an excited schoolboy being told lessons were cancelled for the day. Without speaking, his hands trailed across my hip bones, his fingers teasing between my delicate flesh and the waistband of my bloomers. I looked up at him pleadingly, hardly daring to breathe in fear I would suddenly awake from this beautiful, twisted dream.

After an eternity, he slowly removed my undergarment and let out a blissful sigh. His eyes were fixed between my legs and roamed over my flaxen thatch and dew covered petals, marvelling at how the rosy colour he had caused on my cheeks matched the deep hue blooming between my thighs. "Oh, Jane" he breathed softly, his eyes filled with raw, unadulterated lust. I couldn't meet his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time which allowed me to notice the unfamiliar shape at the front of his breeches as he knelt before me. "Sir", I spoke quietly, my eyes still fixed on the bulge between his legs. He chuckled softly and whispered, "Don't worry, my little imp" before unbuckling his belt and allowing his breeches to fall past his hips. I emitted an audible gasp, this was my first encounter with the male organ and the size of it took me back slightly, what did he expect me to do with that? His member seemed to move of its own accord as if my master had no control over it. "Lie back down, rest your head on the cushion," he told me with a gentleness I had not observed from him before.

I could scarcely believe my fantasies were becoming reality, he positioned the deep crimson head up against the tight opening of my womanhood and slid it between my folds, coating it with my copious nectar before he gripped my hips and started to nudge himself into my dripping channel. The sensation was most strange, reader. There was pain, I admit and I closed my eyes tight as a distraction but nonetheless, it felt as though a missing piece had been returned to me. My master entered me slowly, stretching my insides so exquisitely that hot tears ran down my cheeks without me even registering them. Seeing this, he wiped them tenderly while cupping my cheek, my eyes still closed out of embarrassment.

He continued his gentle, shallow thrusts until all pain evaporated and left me with nothing but a deeply pleasant sensation which seemed to run through the entirety of my small frame. The sounds of our ragged breathing filled the silent room and to my shame, I moaned softly each time he drove into me. Yet, I felt as though I needed more. Placing my arms around his neck to give myself a little more leverage, I began to gently buck my hips up to his to match the rhythm of his motions, I wanted to draw him into me deeper so I could fully experience the sensations he was affording me. He stopped moving altogether and I felt him lower his lips to my ear " Not happy with my performance are we, Jane?". My heart leapt in fear as he continued: "So greedy, why don't you give it a try, then, hm?". He exited me and the emptiness I felt within caused me to cry out in sheer frustration while he lay down on the chaise and set me atop him. Huffing indignantly I looked down at him from my position on his chest as I hadn't the slightest clue what he expected me to do. His member twitched and glistened in the warm lighting of the room. I cringed as I realised the evidence of my arousal. "Go on, I am prepared to wait". He smirked nastily and placed his hands behind his head.

Willing God to forgive me for my ardent need, I lifted my dress and positioned my entrance over his throbbing manhood, my legs barely able to straddle his hips fully and lowered myself onto it. We both let out sighs of pure pleasure as the glorious connection was once again made. I avoided his lustful gaze as I bucked my hips up and down, each time more intense than the last, his heat enveloping my senses. I began to grow needier and lost all sense of thinking, I was now working to one, increasingly required goal. "Look at me, Jane" he commanded his words cutting the steaming air like ice. Reluctantly, I lifted my head slowly to do as he wished, hating myself for it. "Good girl" he hissed softly while regarding my bucking frame with heavy-lidded eyes. I continued moving, almost in a frenzy, I needed more, so much more. My entire body was drenched in sweat and the damp tendrils which hung from my face adhered themselves to my cheeks.

"Harlot" he grunted as my moans grew louder and louder.

This remark hurt me more than I can tell you, reader but I suppose it was true. I imagined Mrs Reed's face, full of mingled disgust and self-satisfaction if she ever found out what sorts of sinful activities her niece was partaking in, giving her body to her employer like a common whore because she couldn't control her own lustful feelings towards him. I suppose she was right all along, I would turn out to be wicked. I decided at least that I would rather be a harlot than cruel and deceitful.

"Oh, sir" I whimpered, "sir, please" I repeated more times than I could count as my own molten essence ran down my thighs.

I never found out what exactly I was begging him for because at once, his body grew tense and he groaned my name as I felt his member throb and spill his hot seed into my willing womb. I reached over and placed my hands on his muscular shoulders, gripping so my knuckles turned white as snow and waiting until his manhood filled me with the last drops of his essence.

I was both satisfied and unsatisfied. I relished in the fact that my master had claimed my body yet felt great disdain that I was not able to reach my own climax. After several moments filled with heavy breathing, I lifted myself up, my thighs soaked and breathed "I've done something for you, sir. Now you're going to do something for me". I took his head in my hands, smiled at his flushed face and guided it between my legs.


End file.
